Hades
by stilettov
Summary: Jim and Molly, but not quite Jim/Molly. One shot. Moriarty takes Molly hostage, tortures her with tenderness. Warnings for implied non-con.


"There's no need to look so scared."

Molly had never been more scared in her life. The scarf in her mouth was soggy, and it was difficult to breathe. Her arms hurt, wrists throbbing from the scarves that bound her to the king-sized bed.

She had been drugged, maybe for hours, maybe for days. When she had come to, she was still blindfolded. When it was removed, she was immediately dazzled by the light. Squinting, she was able to see out of the window. It was a lovely day, a ribbon of sandy beach bordering the sea. It was late afternoon wherever they were. Somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic.

She expected to see men with guns, but it was only Jim, leaning idly against the dresser, wearing a white tank top and pair of cargo shorts. He was tan, and looked for all the world as though he was on holiday. Taking some time off at IT, maybe. Molly would have laughed bitterly if it weren't for the gag.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, picking up a piece of fruit from a bowl near the window. "I'm a little peckish myself."

He moved closer, and Molly pressed herself against the headboard. He hesitated, smiled, and looked down at the fruit. It was a pomegranate, large and ripe, perfectly sized for his hand.

"Call it symbolic. The grenade," he said, hefting the fruit. "Do you know, it is so easy to make the agents of all that is good and holy come running if you have the right bait. Oh, don't be scared, please don't, princess."

Tears had begun to stream from the corners of her eyes. She couldn't help it, it was just a reaction. The rest of her had already become numb to the truth: she wasn't going to leave this room alive.

"Stop crying," Moriarty said, the comforting veneer stripped. It was an order. She didn't even try.

The pomegranate exploded just shy of her, spattering her with seeds and red juice. She had shut her eyes, but then there was a horrific dropping sensation in her stomach as she felt weight sinking in to the bed around her. She opened her eyes, looking straight into Moriarty's, his face a few inches away, his eyes black, but bright.

In his hand, a wicked looking black-matte combat knife. Molly tried to scream, but choked on the gag. Moriarty seized her by the hair.

"Shush," he said, caressing her face with the razor edge of the knife before slipping it under the scarf and cutting it away. "That's better, isn't it?"

Molly took a few deep breaths, trying to get the feeling back into the lower part of her face.

"You know, Molly-girl," Moriarty continued, straddling her. "I feel like we didn't really get the chance to...blossom."

"Leave me alone," she said weakly. She had wanted to say something fierce, something brave, but it wouldn't come. She was a coward and she was going to die.

He pressed the flat of blade against her mouth, and she tensed. "You are so...adorable. You may be the most adorable hostage I've ever had. And the only hostage I've ever had in bed. Oh, stop that, it kills me, darling."

Leaning down, he kissed away the tears streaming down the sides of her face. His lips were soft, just a little sensual and wet, but tender all the same. The same tenderness he'd affected back when he was Jim-from-IT. It make her skin crawl.

Using the knife, he scooped up a few errant pomegranate seeds from the pillow next to her. "Are you up on your Greek Mythology, pet?"

Molly said nothing. She knew the metaphor. She had once found it charming. Now she just watched him, nervousness pervading her body, making her very bones quiver.

Moriarty dumped the seeds into his hand, which was now sticky red. "Open your mouth."

Molly kept her lips firmly sealed, glaring at him.

"Open your mouth, or I'll cut you a new one."

Reluctantly, she let her mouth part, just slightly.

Moriarty sucked the seeds into his mouth, chomped down on them enough to make them burst. Sweet juice streaming down his chin, he pressed his mouth against hers, pushing the shredded little pieces of pomegranate flesh into her mouth with his tongue. She couldn't help but swallow them.

It was almost perversely erotic, in light of the fact that she was going to die. It was something she had never experienced before, this kind of rape. It wasn't like the friend-of-a-friend at college who put something in her drink, or the handsy stranger in on the tube. It was the absolute and utter surrender of everything she was, because despite what he kept saying, she knew that her life was ending, its last minutes ticking away.

She tried relaxing, tried to turn vacant. But she found she couldn't, as Jim kissed her neck and chin, leaving sticky marks all over them, the knife just resting on her collarbone. She shuddered, and she couldn't suppress a sob.

"Molly," Moriarty said seriously, gripping her chin in his hands. "I am not going to kill you. Get that through your noggin, tiger. You get to live. Aren't you excited?"

"Jim..." her voice was barely above a whisper. "Please let me go."

"I'm not going to kill you," he continued. "I'm going to kill your friends, and make you watch."

From somewhere in her depths, a rage surged forward like a geyser. She inhaled deeply, and then spat as hard as she could right in his face.

Momentarily shocked, he stared at her. She stared back, a disgusted twist in the corner of her mouth. He wiped the saliva away from his face and contemplated her for a moment. She had expected him to slap her across the face, or stab her, or do anything but just watch her, looking slightly hurt. Poor Jim.

"I'll kill them slowly. Very slowly," he said quietly. "I won't kill you, Molly. I'll just make you wish I had."

Molly closed her eyes against the rush of mouth, teeth, tongue, fingers, flesh, sticky with pomegranate juice. She resigned to it, exalted in the bitter cold comfort of knowing that if she lived through this, Jim Moriarty wouldn't.


End file.
